Frame Up Rewrite
by Elphaba713
Summary: This is my rewrite to the end of the episode Frame Up. What if Chip had been too strong for Abby to overpower?
1. Chapter 1

-1Okay. People are probably gonna be mad at me for working on this instead of on 'Won't Let Go', but writer's block is the bane of my existence and I have to take inspiration where it comes. I watched the episode 'Frame Up' the other day (I have all the eps on my computer for reference purposes; ITunes ROCKS!!!), and I was thinking, what would have happened if Abby _hadn't _been able to overpower Chip? What if she was too tired and he'd been less of a wimp? Well, this is how I figure it would have gone. Or, how it would have if I wrote it, at least. Reviews greatly appreciated!

**Chapter One**

"Abby!" Gibbs burst into Abby's lab at full speed. He took in the spilled Caf-Pow, the overturned table, the lab equipment scattered across the floor. A flash of movement caught his attention, a glint of light off the surface of a knife aimed his gun, and the sight of Chip plunging the knife downwards again fired the bullet. The rest of the team filed in behind him in time to see Chip fall, and Gibbs dropped his gun and rushed to where Abby's still form lay bleeding on the lab floor while Tony and Ziva moved towards Chip, keeping their guns pointed on his writhing form. Tony dragged him away from Abby, then glanced over at Gibbs, who had dropped to his knees beside her.

"Abby?" The fear in his voice was obvious, something none of them had ever really heard from Gibbs before. He touched her shoulder lightly. "Abbs?"

Her soft moan in response was a relief to everyone; the collective sigh was audible. Gibbs instantly was all orders. "DiNozzo! Call an ambulance." Tony grabbed for his cell phone, found he didn't have it, reached for the lab phone, realized it was lying broken on the floor, and finally dashed out of the lab at top speed after the nearest working phone. "Ziva, McGee, get that bastard out of my sight." Ziva roughly yanked the injured man to his feet, drawing a yelp of pain from him that only made her get rougher. McGee following, she dragged him out of the lab, with a hardly perceptible glance back over her shoulder at Abby. "Jen, get Ducky!" The Director knew better than to hesitate at the order, hurrying out of the lab and leaving Gibbs and Abby alone.

Gibbs kept his hand on Abby's shoulder as he tried to assess her injuries. Her lab coat was stained scarlet in multiple places, keeping him from being able to see where exactly the wounds were. Her hands and arms were nicked and cut; she'd put up a fight, Chip had just proved a stronger assailant than the exhausted girl could handle. The last stab had obviously been intended to kill, but something - whether it had been Gibbs' shot or Abby's struggling - had thrown off his aim. But he'd still gotten in a good strike, and had been taken out before he could pull it out again. The sight was sickening: the end of the knife handle protruding from her chest, shoved in deep from the violent thrust.

"Oh, God, Abbs…" Gibbs whispered softly. His hand moved, trembling, to the knife handle, scared of the damage it might be doing, wanting to get it out of her. But if it was in deep enough, her lung would be damaged - what if pulling it out did more harm than leaving it in? The dilemma was solved when even his light touch on it drew a deep moan from her lips; her eyelids flickered and she made a weak attempt to pull away.

"Don't…" the word was barely audible, merely a breath, but he heard it. He moved his hand to her forehead, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of her face.

"Shh, Abby, it's okay," he said softly, wanting to keep her calm. Her breaths were coming fast and hard, in pained, laboured gasps; two fingers pressed to her neck told him her pulse was weak and rapid, her heart pumping blood too fast and only serving to increase the rate at which she lost it.

At his words her eyelids flickered again before slowly opening, letting her gaze blearily up at him. "Gibbs?" This word had a bit more voice behind it, but not much.

"Yeah, Abbs, I'm here," he answered gently, taking her trembling, bloodied hand into his own.

She moaned softly, her eyelids drooping. "It h-hurts…" she whimpered, her body tense and shaking in pain.

"I know, Honey, I know." He glanced at the doors; where the hell was that ambulance? Or Ducky? She was losing way too much blood, the crimson liquid beginning to pool beneath her. "Just hang in there." Her eyes drifted shut, and his hand moved to her cheek, tapping his finger gently against her skin. "Stay awake, Abby." She whimpered again, but obediently opened her eyes again, only managing to get them halfway unlidded. "Stay with me."

"Wh-where's Chip?" she asked, glancing around the lab.

"It's okay, Abby, he's gone. He's not going to hurt you anymore," Gibbs assured her.

"He… he t-tried… to fr-frame Tony… h-he…" Her voice was fading, she was getting weaker. Gibbs brushed a finger lightly against her lips.

"Shhh, Abbs. I know," he whispered. "Don't talk, Hun. Save your strength." She nodded faintly. He smiled slightly and carefully lifted her head into his lap, stroking her forehead. She sighed softly, stirring slightly and wincing at the movement.

"Abby!" Ducky's voice rang out as he rushed into the lab. He froze momentarily, taking in the scene before him. "Oh, dear Lord."

Gibbs looked over at him, the fear and concern obvious in his eyes. "Yeah, that about covers it, Duck."

Ducky joined Gibbs by Abby's side, taking her wrist to check her pulse. She managed a weak smile. "Hey, Ducky…" she whispered faintly.

He smiled sadly back at her. "'Hey' yourself, Abby." He lay her hand back beside her and carefully pulled her lab coat back to get a better look at her wounds. She winced, and at his first cautious touch pulled away, but Gibbs held her still and she was too weak to protest.

"Did someone…" Ducky started, but Gibbs cut him off.

"DiNozzo better have called an ambulance by now, or he is going to be out on his ass next time I see him."

Ducky nodded. "Good." He looked at the knife handle and winced. "Oh, my dear, he didn't go easy on you, did he?"

"Should we pull it out?" Gibbs asked, his tone making it obvious he didn't really want to be the one to do so. Ducky shook his head.

"It would only cause her to lose more blood if we removed it. It's not worth the risk." Gibbs nodded; she'd lost too much already.

His attention was drawn back to the girl he held when she tried to draw in a deep breath and failed, beginning to cough violently. "Abby!" With Ducky's help he pulled her into a sitting position, bracing her shaking form as painful coughs wracked her small frame. She finally fell limply back against him, gasping in shallow, ragged breaths, lips stained red and a thin stream of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. "Stay with me, Abbs…" he pleaded, and she tilted her head slightly, gazing up at him through dull, cloudy eyes.

Ducky took her hand in his, rubbing her fingers lightly. "Where is that ambulance?" As if in answer, the sound of sirens began to filter through the cracked window. Ducky sighed in relief and squeezed Abby's hand.

"Hang in there, Abbs. You're gonna be okay," Gibbs whispered, stroking her hair gently. He could feel the warmth of her blood soaking through his shirt and held her a bit closer. "I've got you." She smiled weakly at him and tried to say something, but she didn't have the strength to manage words. Instead, she moved her hand, forming a well-known sign before letting her head drop back against his shoulder, her eyes drifting shut. He felt her go limp in his arms, the sound of her shallow breaths the only sign of life, and hugged her close, being careful not to hurt her.

He'd been too surprised to respond to her sign in time - she had signed 'I love you', and he hadn't fully expected that. As the sirens got louder and her blood soaked his clothing, he looked helplessly over at Ducky and prayed he'd be given the chance to answer; that she'd be able to hear him. "Don't leave me, Abby," he pleaded, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "I can't lose you… I love you, too…"


	2. Chapter 2

-1For the three people who read this, here's chapter two!!! Sorry it took so long. I got stuck about halfway through and ended up going in a different direction than I planned to, 'cause of a random idea I had, so I hope this one works out the way I hope it will. Please review!!

**Chapter Two**

Gibbs sat in the hard plastic chair, his head in his hands, eyes gazing unblinkingly at his blood-soaked clothing. The ride to the hospital had been long and terrifying; they'd almost lost Abby after they got her into the ambulance, and it had taken the paramedics three tries to get her heart beating sluggishly once more. Breathing was another matter; she hadn't been breathing on her own by the time they'd reached the hospital. They'd told him her lung had probably been punctured by the knife and collapsed; all he knew was that his Abby wasn't breathing when they had rushed her into ER an hour ago.

He knew medically what was wrong. She'd lost too much blood, and was still losing it; her lung had collapsed, and now she wasn't breathing; she had clinically died and then been brought back, but that didn't mean they could keep her there. And he was stuck out here, away from her, where he couldn't even know what was going on.

He heard more than saw Ducky sit down in the chair next to his, sighing heavily. "You haven't even cleaned up yet, Jethro." Gibbs glanced at him, but otherwise didn't respond. "Sitting around worrying won't make time go any faster, you know."

Gibbs sighed, dropping his hands into his lap and leaning back in his chair. "Why haven't we heard anything, Duck?"

"Sometimes no news is good news, Jethro." At Gibbs confused look, he explained, "If we haven't heard anything, then they are still working on her, which means she is still alive."

Gibbs sighed again. "But for how long?" he asked quietly, staring at his blood-stained hands.

Ducky put his hand on Gibbs' shoulder. "Our Abigail is a fighter, Jethro. She won't leave us that easily." He looked at Gibbs for a long moment. "She won't leave _you_ that easily," he added quietly, knowingly.

Gibbs shook his head slightly. "I can't lose her, Ducky. Not like this. I never even told her…" He dropped his head into his hands again.

"She knows, Jethro. She knows. And that's why she won't give up without a fight." Gibbs nodded slightly, trying to take all the comfort from those words he could. "Now, go wash up a bit. If anyone comes with information, I will come get you immediately."

Gibbs gave in, getting to his feet and heading for the restroom. He scrubbed his hands and arms until they were clean of all blood, and then took some paper towels and cleaned his shirt as best he could. Once he'd done all he could in the way of cleaning up, he took a moment to splash some cold water on his face and try to think through the situation. Ducky was right - Abby was a fighter. On top of that, she was damned stubborn. And she hated Chip too much to let him win like this, he thought with a small chuckle. Fourcing his mind to think positively and his heart to beat evenly, he took a deep breath and headed back for the waiting room.

Reaching it, he found that three more chairs were now occupied; Tony, Ziva, and McGee were sitting in a row with Ducky. All four heads snapped up when he walked in. He half-glared at Ziva and McGee. "Who's with Chip?" He knew the man had been brought to the hospital too, for treatment for his gunshot wound, but one of the agents was supposed to stay with him.

"The director put another agent to watch him and made us leave," McGee answered.

"She was afraid I would kill him, I think." Ziva spoke matter-of-factly, as if it was a completely logical and justified fear. It probably was, Gibbs thought with a wry smile, nodding and sitting back down in his chair. Ziva and Abby might not be close, but he knew she felt just as protective of Abby as the rest of the team did.

Silence fell over the room once more; no one could think of anything to say. Tony flipped idly through a magazine, not even attempting to look as if he were reading it; McGee made a hobby of looking at his watch; and Ziva sat straight in her chair, glancing around the room and trying not to fidget. And when the doctor walked into the room ten minutes later, she nearly rivaled Gibbs in who could stand up faster.

The doctor didn't seem intimidated by the five pairs of eyes staring at him; he searched for one man - the one who had come to the hospital with her, the one who she listed as her emergency contact, and thus the one to whom he had to talk. "Mr. Gibbs?"

"How is she?" Gibbs saw no reason for formalities; there was only one thing he cared about learning from this man.

The doctor sighed - _never a good sign,_ Gibbs noted fearfully. "There was a lot of damage, the most notable being that the blade did puncture her left lung. We were unable to get her breathing on her own again; she's currently on life support." At the collective gasp, he sighed again; this was a part of his job he really did not like. "She lost a lot of blood, and unfortunately, she has a rare blood type - O negative. We've sent an alert to all the hospitals in our radius, so if they have the type she needs and can get it to us… but so far, we haven't gotten a response."

Ducky was the only one able to find his voice. "What are her chances?"

"Well, she's young, and in good health. With a transfusion, I'd say at least 50/50."

"And without one?" Ziva asked hesitantly.

There was a long pause. "Without one…" the doctor started, shaking his head slightly. "Without one, I honestly don't think she'll last the night."


	3. Chapter 3

-1Okay, chapter three. If Ziva's a bit OOC in this, I apologize; I did my best, but I haven't seen most of season three yet (I was at a boarding school for a good fifteen months and we didn't have TV, so I'm slowly catching up with my downloaded episodes), so I don't know Ziva's character perfectly yet, and I have a bit of a hard time writing her. But hopefully I kept her pretty well in character. Reviews muchly loved!

**Chapter Three**

Gibbs hesitated outside the door. He'd asked - or, rather, demanded - to see Abby, and the doctor had relented, saying they could each have five minutes with her. Maybe everyone else would have five minutes, but no power in the world would drag him from the room once he entered it, and he was pretty sure the doctor knew it as well as his team did. But now, standing outside said room, he found himself having to stop and prepare himself to enter.

Everyone's reaction to the news had been different. He had demanded to see her, of course. Tony had stood shell-shocked, gazing in disbelief at the doctor for a long moment before sitting back lightly in his chair and dropping his head into his hands. McGee on the other hand had instantly sat down rather hard in his chair, staring a bit open-mouthed at the wall across the room. Ducky had leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, folded his hands, and started praying. Ziva had been the most unexpected, and maybe the most odd: she had looked at the doctor, looked at the ground, announced her intent to go get a cup of coffee - her offer to get one for anyone else had been collectively ignored - and promptly left the room.

Taking probably his fifth deep breath in the past two minutes, Gibbs finally stirred himself from his thoughts and pushed the door open. The first thing he noticed, before he'd managed to convince himself to look to the bed, was the slow, high-pitched beeping of a heart monitor. The thought that that shaky, unsteady sound was mirroring her heartbeat was truly frightening. But that fear wasn't comparable to the feelings that hit him when his eyes finished scanning the multitudes of medical equipment in the room and fell on the bed. He thought he'd readied himself, but no amount of mental preparation could have made him ready to see Abby like this.

She was terribly still, her normally pale skin now a ghostly white, standing out against the light blue of the bed sheets. Her hair had been loosed from its pigtails and was splayed out against the white pillow, one arm lay alongside her while the other was bent over her chest, her head was turned slightly to the side as if in sleep, and it might have looked natural were it not for the multitude of wires and tubes linking her to the machines filling the room, the most notable - _and most important, _he thought uneasily - being the breathing tube down her throat and the wires linking her to that ever-beeping heart monitor. He could barely see her chest rising and falling as air was pumped into her lungs, and that tiny movement was the only sign of life - and it was false life, his brain insisted on reminding him, as it wasn't even her doing the breathing.

He didn't know how long he stood still in the doorway. He didn't know when he moved. All he knew is that he suddenly found himself half-kneeling by the bed, clutching her icy cold hand tightly, his free hand moving to tenderly stroke her hair. He'd heard once that the feeling of knowing a loved one was dead was nothing to the feeling of seeing the one you loved dying. He had to agree wholeheartedly.

Every attempt to talk to her was cut off before he could utter a word by the thought that she couldn't hear him. _Comatose people can hear when people talk to them._ But she was more than merely comatose… _she's dying._ He couldn't keep that thought out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried. "God, Abby…" he finally managed, and somehow those two words seemed to cover nearly everything else he could have said. He felt his eyes burning and squeezed them shut for a long moment, taking a few steadying breaths.

"You can't give up, Abbs," he finally whispered, squeezing her hand lightly. "You've got to keep fighting." He was pleading - no, ordering - and he could hear the frantic note in his voice as he knew nothing he said could change what would happen. "Damn it, Abby, you are not allowed to leave me!" That came out a bit louder than he'd intended; he lowered his voice, gentled his tone. "That's a direct order, Abbs… you know you can't disobey a direct order…" he dropped his head down beside her on the bed, forehead resting lightly on her arm. "God, Abbs, I can't lose you."

He knew time passed while he just sat there like that, but he had no idea how much time. All he knew is that he was brought back to reality by a sound from behind him, someone clearing their throat from the doorway. He lifted his head and turned around, expecting to see the doctor trying to tell him to leave, or Ducky coming in for his five minutes. Instead, he found Ziva standing in the doorway, fidgeting slightly and looking a bit unsure of herself; not a familiar expression for her.

"Can I talk to you about something?" she asked, keeping her eyes angled a bit downward, not really looking at him and quite obviously keeping her gaze from falling on Abby's still form.

Not really sure what she could want to talk about and hoping she knew better than to try to get him to leave the room, Gibbs nodded. "Yeah. Talk."

Ziva cleared her throat again, shifted her weight from one foot to the other, sighed slightly, then apparently decided to just leap right in. "Abby and I have the same… blood letter." She paused for a second, corrected herself. "Blood type. What I mean is, I am O negative, and she is O negative."

Gibbs looked at her uncertainly, trying to figure out where she was going with this - he thought he knew, but he didn't want to make a wrong assumption; get his hopes up. "And?"

"Well…" she glanced up at him, flicked her eyes to the bed, then quickly away again. "Must the blood come from a hospital? Couldn't someone donate it?"

"What are you suggesting?"

Ziva sighed; he wanted her to be straightforward, and wasn't going to fill in the holes if she didn't just come out and say it. "I'm going to donate my blood for Abby."

Gibbs was a bit surprised at the 'going to' rather than a 'want to'; she'd already made up her mind. Even more surprising to him was his own reaction; despite the hope that leapt into his heart, his mind - and, through it, his voice - reacted quite differently. "Ziva, are you sure about that? That's a big thing to just decide."

"I'm very sure."

"You do know that even that might not save her?"

"He said she'd have a good chance."

"He said she'd have a 50/50 chance. That means there's just as much a chance she'll die as live, even if you do give blood to her." He sounded pessimistic; he was voicing his worst fear, and somehow his brain wouldn't let him think positively.

"That is much better than her chances if I don't." There was a long silence as Gibbs turned back to Abby, lightly stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. He felt more than saw Ziva come up beside him, and glanced up at her to find her eyes now fixed on Abby, a determined glint in them. "The doctor said they'd have to do a few tests, to make sure we were - I believe he said compatible? - and if we were, they could do the transfer within a couple hours, as soon as the results come back." She reached out, lightly brushed her fingers along Abby's arm, letting her hand rest there for a second before drawing back. "They've already taken a sample of my blood, so it shouldn't be long until they know if it will work."

Gibbs couldn't find any words to say; he merely nodded. The mix of emotions running through him was unbelievable, some positive, some not, but hope had been sparked in him, and he held more tightly to Abby's small hand. Ziva stood there for a moment before saying softly, "I should go. Ducky will want his turn."

Gibbs nodded again, and she turned to leave. "Ziva?" Gibbs' voice stopped her at the door, and she glanced back at him; he wasn't looking at her, but he didn't have to be. "Thank you." She stood still for a moment, smiled slightly, then turned and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

-1Okay, chapter four. I had to get dramatic; I apologize, it's a curse. But I hope everyone likes it. And please review. I'll be happy with just a plain, 'read it, liked it, continue please'. Because this site has no hit counters, reviews are the only way I can tell how many people are reading my stories, and if no one's really reading one, I feel more inclined to drop it and concentrate on ones people do read. So, if you read it and liked it, please give me a word or two to let me know!

**Chapter Four**

The rest of the team had all had their five minutes. Ducky had sat down on the side of the bed opposite Gibbs, taken her hand carefully, and talked to her the whole time in true Ducky fashion, telling her stories and rambling on as if it were completely normal - Gibbs had honestly been grateful for that; it was oddly comforting for him, if not for Abby. McGee, on the contrary had sat in silence the whole time, and Tony had said little more than his initial 'Hey, Abbs,' and a couple half-attempts at teasing, each likely ending with the thought that she wouldn't hear him anyways and couldn't laugh and tease him back even if she did.

No one had tried to get Gibbs to leave, and even the doctor - Doctor Nicholas Richards, his name was - hadn't bothered him about it when he came in to check on her. He probably figured that with her condition, it wouldn't make much difference if he was there or not - it wasn't like she needed to rest, after all. He hadn't said much, either, except to alert Gibbs that the test results on Ziva's blood would be back in a few hours. He hadn't said how Abby was doing, and Gibbs hadn't asked - from what he could tell, nothing had changed, and if she was fading, he didn't want to know.

He'd spent the last couple of hours sitting beside her, sometimes silent; sometimes talking to her; always touching her, scared to let go lest she slip away when he wasn't watching. He'd stroked her forehead, her hand, her hair, knowing she was a contact-oriented person and wanting her to know he was there. If she couldn't hear him, maybe she could feel him. He'd give anything to be able to scoop her up in his arms and hug her, but she looked so fragile lying there, he was almost scared of hurting her; every touch was gentle, cautious.

But now he was facing having to leave her side, if only for a moment - he was feeling very drowsy and didn't want to risk dozing off, so he needed coffee. And, to be fully honest, he needed to make another trip to the restroom. He gave her hand a light squeeze before laying it carefully back by her side, promising, "I'll be right back, Abbs." He hesitantly stood and left the room, looking over his shoulder at her the whole way.

He wasn't gone too long, really; he knew right where the bathroom was, so finding it was no problem. The cafeteria took a bit longer, and then he had to order the coffee, which was certainly not the best coffee he'd ever had but would do the trick to keep him awake. All together, it had been maybe thirty, thirty-five minutes when he made his way back to ICU and headed for her room, but something in the back of his mind kept urging him to walk faster, to get back to her as soon as possible.

He knew something was wrong the second he entered her room. The beeping of the heart monitor wasn't slow anymore, or anything resembling even; it was fast and erratic, and he felt his heart speed up to match it as he realized what that meant. He stood frozen for a second before springing into motion, pushing the door back open to yell out into the hallway for a doctor, then rushing to Abby's side, grabbing her hand, shouting her name, but too late. The erratic beeping faded off into a steady, high-pitched whine, and Gibbs felt his world screech to a halt.

But it only froze for a second before the room burst into motion, a violent whirlwind of activity. Doctors and nurses rushed into the room, and Gibbs felt himself being half-pushed, half-led away from her bed. No one was sterile; he assumed it didn't matter anymore. Her bed was surrounded, the covers hit the floor.

"No pulse!" someone yelled, followed by another voice announcing, "I can't get a blood pressure!" Gibbs felt himself trembling; over all the urgency and noise sounded the persistent whine of the heart monitor.

"Get the cart!" Gibbs recognized Doctor Richard's voice. The machine beside him was yanked into motion; shoved over to Abby's bed. Doctors attached electrodes to her bare skin. Gibbs didn't want to watch, but he couldn't drag his eyes away. She shouldn't be there, that shouldn't be her, it was his fault, he shouldn't have left, he should have run faster to get to her lab, he shouldn't have let Jen keep Chip in there in the first place. A voice yelled, "Clear!" and everyone backed away from the bed and the cart; Abby's body twitched as electricity surged through it.

"No response! Let's hit her again." Gibbs was clenching his fists so hard it hurt, he was cold and numb, his eyes burned like fire and he didn't care. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears, mixing with the ever-louder whine of the heart monitor until he thought his eardrums would explode. "Clear!" was barked out again, the machine zapped and crackled, the body jerked on the bed one more time. The whine was broken as the monitor sent out a weak, wavering blip. Gibbs felt his breath catch in his throat.

"Abby! Can you hear me?" Doctor Richards was bending over the bed, his mouth by her ear. She didn't respond to his voice, or to the sharp clap of his hands. He turned to Gibbs and commanded, "Call her. Keep calling her name."

He didn't know how he got from his position against the wall to the side of her bed; all he knew was that he was kneeling beside her, shouting her name into her ear over and over again, frantic. "Abby! Listen to me! Come back, Abbs! Please come back!" Where was she? Could she even hear him? "You can't leave, Abby. Do you hear me? You cannot leave!"

A doctor shouted, "We've got a heart beat!" The green line staggered on the monitor, rising and falling in uneven peaks.

"I've got a pulse and a blood pressure," a nurse announced. Sighs could be heard all over the room. "That was close."

"Too close," Doctor Richards muttered, looking over at Gibbs. He was sweating, his knuckles were white from grasping the sides of her bed, and a few drops of moisture on his face were not sweat but almost certainly tears. He sagged with relief, falling back into the chair beside the bed and taking hold of Abby's hand again, panting slightly, trying to catch his breath. "We've got to do the transfusion."

"The test results aren't back, though," a nurse protested. "If the types don't match well enough, a transfusion could kill her."

"She'll die anyways if we don't." There was little emotion in his voice, just fact.

The nurse looked uncertain; she helped with the tests, and she tended to be cautious - if something went wrong, it would be her fault for not doing thorough testing. "Just give us one more hour and we'll have the results." It sounded so much like what Abby always said that Gibbs glanced up, looking at Richards for his reaction. He shook his head.

"She doesn't have an hour." They'd barely gotten her back; the next time, he knew they wouldn't. "Go get Ms. David, bring her in here. If we don't do this now, we'll lose her. We don't have any more time to wait."

Giving in, the nurse nodded and left the room, followed by most of the other doctors and nurses who had rushed in. Doctor Richards remained, along with a nurse who was still working with the crash cart, hooking up another IV to Abby's arm.

Gibbs turned his attention back to Abby, sighing heavily. "God, Abbs," he whispered. "Hang in there, just a bit longer. Don't scare me like that again." He gently stroked her forehead, brushing her bangs back, moving a few stray strands of hair out of her face. After that close call… this had to save her. It just had to. "Please, Abby, hang on."


	5. Chapter 5

-1Okay, this one's short, I apologize. And it took forever, apologize again. Writer's block sucks. But hopefully the next chapter will come easier. If Gibbs seems a bit out of character in this one, it was not my intention, but I considered the circumstances and tried to figure out how he'd act faced with this situation, and this is what I came up with. Again, writer's block sucks; I really didn't know what to do with this chapter. I hope it turned out better than it sounded to me while I wrote it, but it'll get me to the next chapter, where I do know what I'm doing. I like reviews! Thanks.

**Chapter Five**

It was the longest night of Gibbs' life, but he made it through it. They both did. And as the sun shone a few stray rays through the curtains of the room's small window, he sat holding Abby's hand, listening to the now-steady beep of the heart monitor, and thanking God for the arrival of the morning many people had feared she wouldn't reach. The ordeal wasn't over yet, but it felt like a major milestone had been reached.

The transfusion had gone without a hitch, and there had been no adverse effects on either woman. They'd kept Ziva in the hospital overnight to make sure she rested; she hadn't argued. She wouldn't have left, anyways - none of the team would. And Abby did seem to be doing better. Her heartbeat had steadied and gained strength, and there had been no more scares; Dr. Richards had actually smiled the last time he'd been in to check on her, and told Gibbs things were looking up. Not fully trusting him, Gibbs had questioned Ducky on the doctor's next visit, and had been reassured by his optimism as well. But he knew he wouldn't feel completely calm again until she was awake and talking to him.

For now, he was doing enough talking for both of them. His initial nervous silence had been shoved violently away in those moments of panic when she'd nearly left him, replaced by a determination to tell her anything and everything while he still had the chance. And he did tell her, every little thing that came to his mind.

He told her about the boat he was building in his basement and how he knew she'd like it, like that model ship she'd shown him once that she'd made for the heck of it. He told her about old cases and funny memories and how he knew they could have solved that case ten years ago if they'd had a scientist as skilled as she was. He told her about old movies he liked and music he listened to and how he was kind of acquiring a taste for rock and metal just hearing it in her lab so often. He told her how sometimes it did get lonely at his house working on the boat all night and she'd been right when she said he could use some company. And he told her all the million reasons she needed to wake up, because he didn't want anyone but her to be that company.

When he ran out of things to talk about, he'd just start from the beginning again, and he always seemed to find more things to add each new time around. He told her things he'd never told anyone, things he'd hidden in his memories for years. He wondered what she'd think of him if she were awake to hear all this, and then realized he already knew: the same way she always did. He'd never known her to be judgmental; he didn't expect she'd start now. Knowing that, it felt even better to finally voice all these things, and he actually found himself looking forward to telling her all this again, after she woke up. Not all at once like this; they'd have a lot longer. If he had any say in the matter, they'd have a lifetime.

It was strange the way things changed. Yesterday he'd never guessed he'd be in a hospital for any reason, let alone for Abby; now here he was. When he'd first entered the room, he'd found the beeping of that monitor a bit annoying; now it was almost comforting. And a few hours ago, he never would have admitted anyone could get into his heart like this again; but now, there was no denying she'd snuck right in and taken it over without him even noticing, and what he once would never have admitted, he now couldn't wait to pour out to her.

"Life sure is strange," he commented, stroking the back of Abby's hand with his thumb. "But, you always have been good at stirring things up, ever since the day I met you." He remembered that day perfectly. He'd caught the director in the process of trying to rid himself of this perky young Goth girl who'd been hired to fill an open lab position - the problem was, no team had wanted to work with her. No one seemed to trust the strangely-dressed, fresh-out-of-college girl around complicated lab equipment. But something about her caught his attention. He'd taken her willingly when the director had asked him to give her a trial period, and soon a week had stretched into a month and then a year and kept on going, and she'd more than proved her competence. But that wasn't what stuck in his mind.

What he remembered was being introduced to her. She'd smiled that amazing smile of hers and, upon hearing he was a Marine, saluted smartly. She didn't seem at all put down by the long list of refusals, though she did seem like she was expecting another 'no'. But when he'd gone against expectation and said 'yes', she'd looked at him like his answer was the only one that mattered. Since that day he'd earned that look many times, and it never failed to make his heart beat a little faster.

"God, Abbs, I'm sorry. I've been so dumb not to figure this out earlier," he admitted with a sigh. It shouldn't have taken this to get him to realize he loved her. She'd nearly died, for God's sake, and he could have lost his chance before ever realizing he had one. He still could lose it, he was aware - 50/50 was not the most comforting percentage. But he wouldn't let her give up, not now, not after all this. He'd finally figured this out, and he was going to make sure he got the chance to tell her.


End file.
